Stone Circle blóði

This would be their place, then. Theirs, and no one else's. The red princess had marked it jealously, leaving traces of fur and scratch marks all around in warning to all who were not Bjarna. Stay away. Then she had settled inside to await the return of her pale mirror, the moon to her bleeding sun.
She came with offerings of death and tangled whispering words that the princess did not understand. All the same, she accepted the rabbit, tearing into it as if set to some tedious chore. After a moment she stopped and licked the blood from her muzzle. It is strange. To live we must learn to exhale violence with every breath, She muttered, half to herself and half to Bjarna. We are all killers, but does it count if we do it because we must? She pawed the sundered rabbit gently, as if it still lived and might feel the pain of her inspection. Then she crunched its skull between her teeth, and savored the flavor of its end, stealing glances at Bjarna for no reason other than to make certain she remained.